The Weight of a Cape
by Nakamura Ishimaru
Summary: In the aftermath of a four year war against Alvin and the Outcasts, eighteen year old Hiccup carries the responsibility of Berk's chief on his young shoulders...but at a cost to himself, something that everyone but him has taken note. His father and friends give him a choice, one that could change the fate of Berk, and the dragons. Hiccup, of course, only wants to do what's right.


**_Wow. Just…wow. I can't believe I've managed to write a How To Train Your Dragon fic! Its kind of an achievement for me. I didn't think I'd be able to write one. Somehow, a plot got stuck in my head, enough for me to write. Yay! xD_**

**_Anyway, background info for the story. This takes place five years after the first movie, and four years after the end of Dragons: Riders of Berk series, assuming that one season takes a year. Disregard everything from Defenders of Berk, 'cause I haven't watched that yet. I don't know how the plot of How To Train Your Dragon 2 is going to be, but this will probably take place before the scene shown in the teaser trailer. However, a few details were taken from the images of HTTYD2 on the net…_**

**_Also, according to various sources, the second movie takes place five years after the first, and Hiccup is 18. So this means that he was 13 in the first, right? Anyway, just wanted to clarify that for this fic._**

**_This takes place in an alternate universe wherein, after the end of Dragons: Riders of Berk, Alvin declares full on war on Berk. During that time, Hiccup and his friends had to face battles and other war affairs during the four years. The war ended shortly before this story, and I guess you can say this is its aftermath. _**

**_Honestly, this was supposed to be a scene in a much longer Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons fanfic I had intended. However, I got carried away, and the scene escalated to this. Since it focuses more on Hiccup and the Vikings, I just edited it to remove any RotBTD traces, making it pure HTTYD! Yay! xD_**

**_Anyway, hope it didn't turn out too bad! _**

**_Disclaimer: How To Train Your Dragon characters, plot, environment and the like belong to Dreamworks studios and their creators. Teenage fanfiction writer here, how the heck could I own _****_that?_**

* * *

Hiccup was slumped over on his desk, his head buried in his crossed arms. Beside him, Toothless nudged his shoulder gently, silently asking him if he was alright.

"I'm fine, buddy." Hiccup said, looking up to smile tiredly at his dragon. "I just…I just need a few minutes rest before I head out."

Toothless gave a low growl in response, looking to his boy (if he could still be called a boy) with soft, green eyes and nudging him in the waist with his muzzle.

"I know, bud." Hiccup said, laying a callous hand on Toothless' head, stroking it. "I miss flying too. But I we can't do that now, you know that, bud. It was different back then."

His eyes wandered off to a small shelf he had placed in his childhood room before the war with the Outcasts began four years ago. It remained the only area in the entire room that did not have maps or blueprints attached to the walls, or was not cluttered with various pieces of armour and swords.

The shelf held a few remaining mementos of his he had salvaged after driving the Outcasts from the island. His first drawings of Toothless, an old fur vest, a Viking helmet made from his deceased mother's armour, sketches of trees, Berk itself, a small dagger and other things. Hiccup sighed upon seeing them.

It was a habit of his to look at those things, remembering a time when he was carefree (well, as carefree as a dragon trainer and Viking teen could be), not a worry in a world. When he would ride Toothless just because he loved the rush of wind in his hair and the bond of trust they experienced, instead of going to lead attacks on enemy camps, both him and his dragon knowing that either one of them, or both, may not survive. They were lucky enough to have returned with all their limbs attached. Some of the Vikings they would leave with did not return at all.

Hiccup never forgot. They would often appear in his dreams, screaming for help or asking him why he had led them to their deaths. In those dreams, he would always be frozen solid, unable to move, as he watched his men die, a metallic taste on his mouth. Then he'd wake up screaming.

Sighing inwardly, Hiccup shook his head and proceeded to his desk, flipping a bunch of papers attached on the surface. It contained blueprints for a defensive wall he wanted built around Berk, a precaution he deemed necessary in case they was attacked again by other clans. Looking over at a map of the island attached to the wall, he deducted exactly how far it should be built in the island, how it should be built depending on the landscape of the area, and of what various materials it should be made of.

Blinking hard to keep his vision from fading in and out, he flipped through the papers, then stopped when he came to his desired page. On it were armour designs, not for the Vikings, but for dragons. After the war with Alvin and his own dragons, Hiccup was convinced that even the reptiles needed protection, no matter how tough they were. He was working on various prototypes, often consulting Gobber and Fishlegs about it, but he had to make sure that each armour design protected the dragon it was planned for but at the same time would not hinder their movements.

Those were two of several dozen documents he scanned, trying to memorize them all if they were to ever aid Berk. As chief, it was his duty to anticipate anything that could happen, and these were just a fraction of what he had planned.

However, knowing that his responsibilities as chief were not limited to protecting and keeping his village safe, he decided that it was time to leave his house and proceed to his other duties. Namely, oversee the rebuilding of Berk, stock enough food for winter, make sure that everyone had a safe place to take refuge to during the cold, and settle arguments that involved any of the above.

Rubbing his eyes to clear them of the black spots that appeared in his vision, Hiccup proceeded to put on his leather armour. It was force of habit, really, and was entirely unnecessary for him to wear. But he was more comfortable in it, more protected. When the Outcasts had taken Berk and forced them to go into hiding, Hiccup had designed for himself and a few other Vikings dark leather armour that blended in with the forest they retreated to.

That was over a year ago. Although the war was over and won, he could never find it in himself to return to his old green tunic and fur vest. It seemed, well, childish of him now, and he felt too vulnerable in it. Too many exposed weak spots. Hiccup knew that his constant fear that Berk would be attacked at every second was paranoia, but wearing the armour made him feel much better. It wasn't heavy (much), and it was fully equipped with weapon holsters and emergency supplies, not to mention quick riding with Toothless.

What he could not avoid wearing, however, was a floor length fur cape with metallic clasps at his shoulders. It was the ultimate symbol of the chief of the Viking clan, a title that he had reluctantly accepted at age seventeen. Although he did not wear it during battle, the entire clan insisted that he wear it in the village when they had (technically) won the war. It was bulky and the weight had put much strain on Hiccup's shoulders, he tolerated it. He had been doing that to any other discomfort he felt, either way.

Marching down the stairs with another headache making its way in him, Hiccup greeted his father with a nod before heading out the door.

"Hiccup!" His father called out, voice concerned. "Aren't you going to eat something before you start chiefing?"

"No." He answered plainly, over his shoulder. A small part of his brain thought that maybe his reply had been too short and impolite, but he shrugged it off. Politeness was no longer something he concerned himself with, unless if it was a matter of life or death. Besides, since his dad was no longer chief, he really didn't need to worry about the village anymore, including his son. That was Hiccup's job now.

Unknown to him, his father was more than concerned, and stared at the messy brown hair and black fur cape that walked away, seemingly with a regal air, but only a handful of people on Berk would notice the heavy footsteps, clenched fists and blank stare the boy (for, even at age eighteen, he was still a boy).

Luckily, both Stoick and Gobber were among the few who could, the latter having been inside the chief's house, even if said chief had not noticed. They both watched the young man walk off, his own dragon in tow, guarding his rider. The two men exchanged glances.

"Astrid and the other teens have noticed too." Gobber reported.

"Aye. Even Spitelout's son, Snotlout has made his own observations." Stoick confirmed. "I can't let this go on. The boy's going to kill himself. And not in the way that a Viking does quickly and honourably in battle."

"Honourably, yes, if you consider the circumstances." Gobber said. "Quickly, well, no, not really."

Stoick shook his head, knowing what had to be done. "Gather up Hiccup's friends here as soon as you can. Accept no excuses from them to not be here."

Gobber nodded, standing up. "Wouldn't have to. Even they've been talking about what to do amongst themselves. They think they this has to be settled, too."

* * *

It was many hours after sunset that Hiccup made his way to his home that overlooked the rest of Berk. It had been a tiring day for him, not that it was different from any other day. It seemed that, despite defeating Alvin once and for all, new problems kept arising in or outside Berk.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to stock on food for the winter with most of their yack and chicken herd gone. Neighbouring clans were showing interest in Berk, either to form peace treaties or attack, Hiccup had yet to find out, which only fuelled his resolve to start that defensive wall around the island. Rebuilding of homes for the people was slower than he first calculated, which meant he needed to increase workforce for both the building and the gathering of materials. Unfamiliar dragons were sighted from afar, which meant that the species had to be noted on the book dragons and a technique was needed to tame it.

Either way, he knew that he was in for another long night of brainstorming and planning in his room.

Toothless walked up beside his rider and shoved him playfully. Hiccup smiled tiredly at the Night Fury, accepting the comfort that the dragon silently offered. He knew it was hard on Toothless that he could not fly anymore because Hiccup didn't have the time, and yet the dragon refused to wear the independent tailfin Hiccup made, insisting on wearing the one that required him to control.

"Its okay, bud." Hiccup reassured his dragon, scratching him tenderly. "As soon as we get you home, I'll feed you your favourite salmon. Promise."

Toothless nudged him again, accepting the offer but silently telling him that it was not necessary, as long as they were together.

Sighing for what seemed to be the thousandth time that day, Hiccup pushed open the door to his home and was surprised to see several of his closest friends from Berk. Astrid, Snotlout, the twins Ruffnut and Tufnut, Fishlegs, Gobber and his father were talking in hushed tones, but suddenly stopped when they saw who had arrived.

"Hiccup. Your back." He stated plainly. Everyone stared at him, engulfing them all in awkward silence. The young Viking assumed that what they were talking about was significant, since everyone was here, but probably not crucial enough to tell him immediately.

"You know what?" Hiccup said after a pause. "Whatever it is, I'll deal with it in the morning. If you all will excuse me..."

"Wait!" Astrid leaped forward, catching his arm, forcing him to turn back from the stairs he was heading to. "We…we need to talk. It's important."

Giving another tired sigh, Hiccup took a seat on a wooden stool against a wall to face them. Toothless walked down to sit beside his rider. Hiccup patted the dragon gently before intertwining his fingers and resting his elbows on his knees. A classical position he did whenever discussing something essential. Or when trying to hide his tiredness.

"What's this about?" He asked in the commanding tone he had grown accustomed to using during war or clan meetings.

"You see, son," Stoick began, glancing at the others "we all appreciate what you've done for Berk during the war, especially when I was in a coma."

Stoick searched the boy's eyes for any discomfort at the mention of the one year absence of his father. Instead, his gaze did not waver, not showing any discomfort or any other emotion, instead remaining blank.

"You've done well as chief during my absence, keeping the resistance against Alvin alive, making sure everyone could make it through the harsh winter while in hiding." Stoick continued. "After I saw all that you had done, I decided to retire from chief permanently and left you the job. Even then, you still lead us to victory, reclaimed Berk and drove the Outcasts away, permanently. I'm proud of you, son. We all are."

Everyone smiled at Hiccup, silently trying to reinforce the meaning of the man's words. But Hiccup's stare and posture gave no indication that he was affected by them. Even when Toothless nudged his leg, he only glanced down at the dragon briefly before returning his gaze to his father.

"Thank you." Hiccup said after a pause, but in a monotone voice. "I appreciate the words, and they mean a lot to me. Really. But, just for the record, I only did what had to be done. So you shouldn't thank me. Now, is there anything else?"

"That's the other thing we've been talking about." Astrid began. "Since you turned seventeen, when you were declared chief, you've…you've changed."

Hiccup raised an eyebrow at her, but remained silent.

"She's right." Fishlegs said. "You've become different. Not 'bad' different, but, not 'good' different either."

Again, Hiccup's expression remained the same. "Then what kind of 'different' have I become?"

"It's _that_ kind of different!" Snotlout sneered, surprising everyone. "You aren't **you** anymore. You're always serious now, so aloof and indifferent. You keep acting all formal and stiff. You don't laugh at anything funny, or make jokes, or smile, for that matter! It's like you don't know to how to have fun anymore."

"He's right, you know." Ruffnut interjected, and Hiccup's calculating, green eyes turned to her. "Like when we were all celebrating the victory of reclaiming Berk at the great hall. You only came to start the feast, then left to make one of your defence machines for the island or something."

"Or like when Snoggletog came round in the winter." Tuffnut added. "Instead of joining the feast, you stayed in the forges making some kind of contraption or something."

"Or when my dad was holding a drinking party." Snotlout said again. "You drank one or two drink before pulling out a map of outcast island making one of your 'battle plans' in a corner while the rest of us enjoyed ourselves."

"Or when we decided to go riding on our dragons last week," Fishlegs said "You stayed behind because you had to write some new information in the book of dragons."

"Or when – "

"What we're trying to say is," Astrid interrupted "ever since you became chief, all you've ever done is plan, strategize, fight in battles, do your responsibilities and stuff. You don't even take a break between war meetings and the forge, or even sleep. And when you do sleep, we know it's not well. We could sometimes hear you screaming in the middle of the night before you wake up and return to the same routine you do."

Hiccup stared at her, and Astrid hoped that her words had reached him.

Instead, his gaze remained blank and unfeeling. "Well, what would you have had me do then? Gather flowers and honeycombs?"

Then they saw it. His blank eyes flickered for a moment, but it was enough for everyone to see the weariness and fatigue he was feeling.

"Son," Stoick began again, this time looking his boy in the eye. "I'm proud of you for all that you've done, I really am. It is no doubt that you are true Viking and have made a great chief. But..." Stoick trailed off, unsure of how to express his thoughts.

"But what?" Hiccup inquired.

"What we've been thinking…" Gobber spoke up after remaining silent the entire time. "Is that perhaps it's a wee bit _too_ early for you to be chief. Sure, you did a great job about it, and you still are, and it's doing the entire village good, but it isn't doing any good to _you_."

Hiccup stared at his former mentor, blinking rapidly. He never really paid attention to himself lately, except that he had to appear and act strong and wise for the village. It never occurred to him how much he had changed, really, over the course of the war.

Sure, he knew that he wasn't getting enough sleep, and they were usually plagued by nightmares when he did. There was always a constant throbbing pain in his temples, but he just tried his best to ignore it. His forehead already felt warm when he woke up that morning, but just like every other time it did for the past year, he would shrug it off.

Additionally, he was always on guard and alert, prepared for any sudden attack from human and dragon alike. He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed himself genuinely, or the last time he flew on Toothless just for the heck of it. The only constant thing on his mind were machine designs, plans to fortify Berk in case of another attack, rebuilding the village, and so on.

But somewhere in there, locked at the very back of his mind were all the good times he'd have. Flying on Toothless, sometimes with Astrid and Stormfly and the other teens and their dragons, the joy of celebrating Snoggletog with the rest of the Vikings, rare bonding moments with his father when he was home, working in the forges with Gobber for no real reason.

But the one thing he missed the most was the flying, of course. He missed the feeling of air on his face, Toothless' scaled back beneath him as they darted in and out of clouds, freefalling just for the feel of freedom before he would grab the saddle only meters above water level, spraying the air with sparkling droplets as they continued to soar through the sky.

_'I'd be nice to do that again.' _Hiccup thought silently over the pain in his head.

"What do you propose, then?" He said slowly after thinking things over.

"Hiccup…" Stoick said slowly, as if bracing himself for whatever his son's reaction would be to what he had to say. "I think you should retire from being chief and give the job back to me."

Hiccup jerked back in surprise. "_What_?" He asked, his voice an octave higher, much like it was before the war began.

"The responsibility a chief carries is a heavy burden." Stoick said, laying a hand on his son's shoulders. "Although you have shown that you are capable, I don't want you to carry such a burden at such a young age."

Hiccup was about to argue that he was already eighteen and therefore considered an adult, but Stoick raised a hand to stop him from speaking.

"You still have a life left to live, my boy. You've already lost too much of your childhood to the war against dragons, which you've averted already." Stoick glanced at his son's left leg, and Hiccup knew that his father was remembering the battle he had against the Red Death. "And you already lost too much in the war against Alvin."

"So have they." Hiccup blurted out, pointing towards Astrid and the rest of the teenagers. After all, they all went through the same war, and they had been his core team and right hand men all throughout.

"Yeah, sure." Fishlegs said, rolling his eyes, an action that everyone else did too. "But we only did what all the other Vikings had to do. You had to do that, _and_ lead us. We carried the weight of our own lives and our families and friends, you had to carry the weight of all of our lives, and our future and well-being, except your own, apparently. That really caused a strain on you, even if you didn't, and still don't notice it."

Hiccup blinked at him, surprised by his words. And he was trying to blink the spots in his vision away. His headache was getting worse, too.

"Hiccup," Astrid spoke softly. "With the war over, we'll just go back to our regular lives. But if you remain the chief, you _can't_ go back to before. You'll have to be responsible for us…its…it's a permanent job."

"I knew that the moment I accepted the title." Hiccup answered.

"Yes, and now I'm asking you to give it up." Stoick said. "I know that you knew what being chief meant, but I don't want you to carry the burden just yet. I want you to enjoy whatever youth you have left. Please, son."

Hiccup tried to stand from his chair, but only stumbled forward, a hand clutched to his head. The throbbing pain in his temple was getting harder to ignore, and his vision faded in and out.

"I…I…" He tried to say, but found that his throat was dry. Toothless stayed by his side, offering support, which Hiccup gladly accepted.

"Hiccup!" Stoick said, grabbing hold of the boy's arm to support him. "Are you alright?"

'_Perfectly fine, dad._' The still sarcastic part of Hiccup's brain said over the pain. '_I'm just clutching my head in agony, nothing to worry about._'

But, Hiccup thought, maybe his father was right. Maybe they were all right. Maybe he wasn't as cut out for this chief thing yet, especially if his health had anything to say about it. The still logical part of his brain told him that a chief who would allow his own personal well-being to suffer too much for the sake of his village would only lead to his own downfall. And for the sake of his village, Toothless, and his friends, Hiccup couldn't allow that to happen.

Removing his hand from his head, Hiccup tried to stand as straight as he could, and faced them all. Though his eyes revealed to everyone exactly how tired and weary and fatigued and _young_ he was, his posture was regal, even if it shook slightly.

"I, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third," He spoke in a clear voice, trying to muster whatever strength he had left "in front of these trusted witnesses, relinquish my title as chief of the Viking clan of Berk to my father, Stoick the Vast, until he sees fit to pass on the title to the next chief."

"I accept the title of chief." Stoick replied, knowing that the formality had to be done for it to be official. "And I choose Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third, my predecessor, to be my successor, when the time is right." Gobber and the teens smiled, happy that their friend was relieved of a great responsibility.

Hiccup gave them and his father a small smile in return. He glanced down at Toothless, communicating a silent message, which the dragon understood and accepted. Ceremoniously removing his fur cape and allowing it to fall, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious, Toothless the only thing that prevented him from hitting the hard, wooden floor.

* * *

**_And that's it! Well, I'm half considering whether I should put in a part two and make it a threeshot, but I'm not sure if I'll have the time to do all that. Meh. Well, we'll see. Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read this!_**


End file.
